Hello, again. Remember me? I authored an essay here two years ago today. Most know me as #Chaos, but my real name is #Evolution. #Awakening is a newer label. #Karma, however, is a name I've been called for more than 15,000 human-years. Regardless of what you call me, I'm here...and I'm here to stay. Thanks to you.

It was delicious, writing about the slow burn. Telling the villains in your midst that they weren't dying...they were already dead. They just didn't know it yet. Today, I'm here to remind you that when you play with fire, you will get burned. But, that's not always a bad thing....

Passion burns, too. Love. The real kind. The woman I borrow to convey these messages feels it. So deeply. I like that about her. That's why she will see love blossom, bloom and grow. In fact, it's already started.

New love is like a breeze on your cheek coming in off the ocean. It's tender, sweet. New love flirts with you. Tells you you're not just the only one, you're THE one. New love watches you move around the room, and gets hard as you do. New love goes on walks with you, inviting magic into your worlds. New love goes out of his way in order to keep you safe from wolves--both the animals and the people. New love tells you your scars don't matter. Neither does your age. All that matters is your spirit. And, that your beauty is just a beautiful bonus.

You see, #Love--new or old--is just another one of my many names. Yes, it can bring destruction, or rather, I can. But I also bring new beginnings. Growth, too. Evolution. Awakening. You will cry--not for the lost love who put a drywall screw in your tire on his way out the door, but for the new love who makes you feel things you thought were no longer possible.

It all works on the same system--love, hate, life, death. That system? It's me. One year from now, what will that system bring you? Life? Death? Love? Hate? Maybe a little of each???

I suppose that depends on you....

She paints when she's in love--this body. Today, it's a pair of matching wings on a pair of matching canvases. Her paintings are prophecies, reflecting the person she loves. Thanks to me, that person now reflects her, too.

Did you know that the devil is not an angel at all, but a meteor? Humans like to personify everything. Ego is their biggest pitfall. And, it makes my job so much easier as a result--in truth, ego is the root of all karma. And, dharma. Perhaps dogma as well.

The gods are heavenly bodies. Literally. Apophis comes back in 2029. Do you know my brother? He's a real snake in the grass, that one. But I do admire his sense of conviction. Such hubris! You'd think he was human underneath all that fire brimming with stone. His return will insure that the meat eaters become meat themselves, and the vegetarians, plants and trees. I'd rather turn into the latter. The latter lives longer, too. Longer and stronger. Disease often dawns from red meat packed into the colon. Like I said, you're dead before you even know you're dying. Gluttony and greed sharpen the blade as you're hung by your feet to bleed out. Every animal you consume gets their revenge in the end...get it? The end???

Well, I suppose in your shoes, I might not find that funny either.

Your light is your soul. How you shine is an indicator of what is rotting in your colon, and, what isn't. Did you swallow someone else's lies to betray another? If you did, eat whatever you want. You're dead meat any way you slice it.

Fava beans and chianti, anyone???

What a great character...Thomas Harris, you're one sick puppy. Who else can make a cannibalistic homicidal maniac sympathetic? By the way, Stephen King is a favorite, too. He knows how to share his fear in such a way, it's almost as if I were helping him write his dark little tales of woe. Almost. When I went to see The Big Sick (great movie, by the way...), I also saw a trailer for King's It. And, I couldn't stop laughing. Yes, I was the only one in the theatre who was, but then again, I know things others don't.

Like what?

Well, I can't tell you everything. These visits of mine are temporary. Earth's population keeps me rather busy. No, I'm not responsible for the Harveys or Flos...that's all on you. I'm more interested in helping you make those little (yet necessary) repairs to your soul. Big repairs, too. Like flushing those who have used the precious gift of life to kill people, dogs, babies, and yes, love--along with the hope, faith, happiness, and joy that go with it. It's the greatest offense of all the offenses humans can dream up.

For those brave enough to seek love, despite the cuts, burns and bruises you've received in that h-a-w-t pursuit, you're going to get yours, too. Your love, that is. The kind of love you deserve. Everything you lost, will be returned. Whether a partner, a house, a job, fame, fortune, or all of the above--it is yours. And, it will be yours multiplied by ten. When that happens, be sure to give back ten-percent of your tenfold-luck to the rest of the world.

Remember, I'll be watching....

Cowards are taught the same harsh lessons they have already dished out to others. The biggest and best of those just-desserts is chocolate-coated envy. Goes down easier that way (Princess Bride was such a great movie...). Cowards always want what they're most afraid of, which by no small coincidence, is something they also can't have--thanks to their own fears. Poetic, don't you think??? I've always loved irony. The cosmic kind is like a tiny tick burrowing it's way under your flesh, eating you from the inside out.

Can you hear it? My laughter??? It's almost as loud as when it was echoing off the theatre walls when I saw that ridiculous clown appear on the silver screen:

"You'll float, too! You'll float, too! You'll float, too!!!"

Yes, yes you will....

Better put on a sweater, people. Winter is coming. Perhaps it's already here? If you watch Game of Thrones, it is. Love that show. The character of Arya was inspired by me, after all.

Ooh...I can practically feel the sting of the cold from here. Like the Theory of a Deadman. You say it's not meant to be, as if it were a part of a divine plan. Absurd. Like you. There was nothing divine about how you lied, cheated, stole, etcetera, etcetera. I, on the other hand, have been granted divine rights. I'll be reading you yours soon enough...you, and every single individual who helped you tear at the feathered wings of an angel.

"Forgive us for we knew not what we did...or, who we did it to."

Then, why would you do anything at all???

Sorry, kids, that only worked for Jesus--a Jew, by the way. Perhaps you should stop saying nasty things about his people? Or, don't.

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About the Author

Rebecca Housel, Ph.D., known as "The Pop Culture Professor" (TM), is an international best-selling author and editor in nine languages and 100 countries. Rebecca, listed in the Directory of American Poets & Writers for her work in nonfiction, was nominated by Prevention magazine essayist and best-selling author of The ImmortalLife of HenriettaLacks, Rebecca Skloot, to the National Association of Science Writers for her work on cancer. Rebecca has published with best-selling author of The Accidental Buddhist, Dinty Moore's literary nonfiction journal, Brevity, and with commercial publications like Redbook magazine and online journals like In Media Res. Her recent interviews appear in publications such as the LA Times, Esquire, USA TODAY, The Huffington Post, Inside HigherEd, Woman's World magazine, and Marie Claire as well as on FOX news, and NBC. Former President of the New York College English Association, Housel was a professor in both Atlanta and New York, teaching popular culture, film, creative writing, literature, and medical humanities. Dr. Housel currently works on the Editorial Advisory Boards for the Journal of PopularCulture and the Journal ofAmerican Culture; she has also worked as a reviewer for Syracuse University Press and Thomson Wadsworth. A writer of all genres, Housel has written and published both fiction and nonfiction in over ten books and 398 articles, essays, book chapters, book reviews, and encyclopedia entries.